


9 lives🐾

by sonshineandshowers



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gil's Cat POV, Personification, Post-Endicott Injury, canon minor character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29403834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers
Summary: The human opened a can of tuna. Was it real tuna or was she being tricked? The adventures of Gil's cat after his injury.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Jackie Arroyo
Comments: 20
Kudos: 15





	9 lives🐾

**Author's Note:**

> for fun with folks who requested an opening line of "the human opened a can of tuna" and gil's cat pov

The human opened a can of tuna.

The slow twinge of metal letting go traveled through the main entrance and prickled every warning hair to attention. Paws stretched for the noonday sun baking warmth into a fluffy calico coat, charging the zoomie batteries that laid underneath. They cautiously awaited further signals, too comfortable to jump at the first sign of food, only to be lured into something far less delectable.

It could be a false alarm. No snap of the lid coming off. Maybe it was peas, corn. Some other mushy vegetable offering disguising itself as a meal. Something to leave to the human.

She wouldn’t move for just anything. That was a rookie mistake for first-year kittens at the acatemy, and she was the captain of this house. Stretching her legs a little further to move with the rays, she waited for more evidence to determine whether or not moving out of the sun was worth her while.

 _Cling_ , ceramic dropped on the counter. _Clank, cling_ , it wobbled until silence told her it had come to a rest. _Tap, tap, tap_.

It was tuna.

She scrambled through her dedicated entrance, floof swooshing back to reveal her tiny frame underneath. Paw over paw, she clamored for her place setting. There would be fresh, gleaming bowls waiting—the very thought of it curled her tongue to get a taste. She skittered to a stop before her placemat and ducked her head for a bite…

Nothing.

Her fine aluminum lay cloudy, in need of a good polishing. More importantly, there was no water, there. was. no. tuna.

“Grrrrr,” she growled, the human having played a trick on her again. Keep away was for dogs and small children. She was a veritable feline, equipped with ten claws that one-by-one emerged to shine in the kitchen light. Rearing back, she sulked into the living room.

Trickery came with consequences. She pulled at the carpet, tugging one paw after another through the loops as she lasered her ire in the human’s direction. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t supposed to do it, he wasn’t supposed to trick her either…

He wasn’t in his spot in the chair. Expressing disappointment wasn’t as fun when there wasn’t a witness. She might as well be yowling at the wall like the tomcat the humans down the block tried to rescue. He was a free-roaming feline—he didn’t want interference—he wanted an audience. Left scowling, she was just as alone, not even bothering to take out her instrument for a performance.

 _Tap, tap, tap_. Her ears perked, and she swung her head to the kitchen counter.

Tuna.

Throwing herself at the counter, she windmilled her back legs to push herself up the rest of the way. Utopia, sweet honey on a rat biscuit, it was flaky, delicious TUNAAAAAA-uhmmmph her words disappeared with the most precious meal rolled out on a red carpet.

“Sorry, girl. I can’t bend today.” She heard his words over gnaws and smacks.

 _Sorry?_ she thought as she gulped water from what might as well be a porcelain bowl. _This is the Ritz!_ The counter was a forbidden island, where only human food got to sit. She was eye to eye with the human!!!!!… if she could take her attention away from the tuna.

His fingers pet over her back, hopping up her bony spine. She bristled and hissed at him with all the spunk she could muster, and the hand disappeared. Her tuna. No sharing. No give backs. No, no, no, no… she dove back into her meal.

She inhaled her lunch like the machine she was terrified of, for it would suck her away to some distant place she would never escape from. It hadn’t come out lately, so maybe she’d been spared having to risk another one of her many secreted away lives. She’d already lost one in the house, falling through her claws… she didn’t need to chance another.

Her tongue licked bowl, bowl, bowl… no more tuna. Le sigh. She rolled onto her back and thrust her paws at the ceiling like the _starving_ cat that she was to request—please, sir?

His hand came down and… rubbed her tummy. All of the softest fur lived there, but it wasn’t for uninvited guests. She batted his hand with her paw, reminding him _tuna?_ , then they could talk.

“You’re gonna get spoiled up here,” he chided her, scratching behind her ears and walking for the living room.

Step, shuffle, step. Step, shuffle, step. Three legs? She hopped off the counter to investigate. She twirled back and forth between his two and found a third appendage, a _cane_ , that didn’t smell like him. It didn’t smell like her, either, so she quickly fixed that, rubbing her side against it.

“Hey, don’t trip me,” he scolded, pushing her away with his foot.

She grabbed his pant leg, a more fun game than listening, and dragged along with him to the couch. He lowered himself to the cushions with far more effort and grunts than usual and bared his belly, ripe for sitting. She pounced, his _oof_ leaving her settling, curled up on him, quicker than usual.

“Careful,” he warned her. “Last surgery, hopefully.”

She didn’t know. Outpatient? He’d been gone for so long the last times, the fact that he had another one came as a surprise now. The human who came to visit her before smelled like sunshine, which was a welcome addition to any day, but his food choices were abysmal. She was glad when tuna, _hack_ hairball—human— _hack_ hairball, returned.

He rubbed over her back, and she let him because his body was warm and suitable for a nap. Even when his fingers brushed her belly, she let it go because tummy pets for kitty cats were okay when they were wanted. Now, if he stopped, she might have to get his attention to fix that.

“Getting old, Jackie,” he said, chuckling to himself. “Harder to heal than it used to be.”

A little extra warmth might do the trick. The hug of a familiar friend by his side so he could make it to another day of tuna. “Mrow,” she responded and curled up her paws by her face to sleep.

“Love you.” He petted the back of her neck and rested his hand there. It was almost like they were curled up together in bed after a long day, trading touches until the world slipped away.

Sleep came easily.

* * *

_fin_


End file.
